


Déja-Brew

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Barista Stiles Stilinski, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Enemies to Lovers, Identity Reveal, Idiots in Love, Intern Derek Hale, M/M, Rude Derek Hale, Rude Stiles Stilinski, Secret Identity, aggressive flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Stiles Stilinski works at a coffee shop Derek Hale visits regularly and he cannot stand the guy. That is, until one night at a masquerade, they meet and fall for each other, but Stiles can't help but think he's met the man behind the wolf mask before.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Malia Tate
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

Despite popular belief, Stiles Stilinski didn’t hate his job. Yeah, sure, he hated mornings and working at a coffee shop meant some pretty early ass days, but he still didn’t mind. He got to watch the sunrise almost every morning, so that was pretty cool. He also had some pretty legit coworkers that were never too annoyed by his goofing off. He genuinely liked working at Jumpin’ Java, the only issue with working there were the customers. The shitty thing about being a barista was the array of customers you could get in just five minutes alone. There could be a perky blonde high schooler trying to slide you her phone number followed by a middle aged man who smells heavily of cigarette smoke. 

His favorite customers were the ones who obviously had worked in customer service jobs before. They were kind and usually tried brightening his day someway or another--and honestly, they succeeded. It was nice to feel appreciated. It was with these customers that his customer service voice dropped; he felt more at ease around them and thought they deserved a more real version of him.

Stiles’ least customers, though, were the unbearable “Karens”--dubbed graciously by one of his coworkers Erica. Karens were the type of customers that came in and thought they owned the place. They demanded special treatment as if they owned the place and they always found something wrong no matter what. Generally, Karens were older women or gray haired old men that thought the world revolved around them. Occasionally, he had a few younger Karens which--in his opinion--were worse. Out of all these horrible customers, there was one in particular that Stiles only referred to as Hot Karen.

It was sad, really, because the Hot Karen was an unreasonably attractive man. The guy had been coming in for months and every time he came in, he had something new to complain about. The first time Stiles had seen Hot Karen he was pretty sure that his jaw dropped to the floor. Hot Karen had walked in around almost eight in the morning--which eventually became a habit--in a tight purple dress shirt and pants that made his ass look heavenly. Stiles, who had been confidently out since high school, had no qualms with the idea of shamelessly flirting with the Adonis as he had walked up to the counter. Of course, that was all before Hot Karen spoke. The dude had looked down at his phone the entire time while ordering and when Stiles made the order and gave it back, Hot Karen had taken one drink, made a face, and walked out the door without another word.

That was the beginning of a long list of grievances between the two. At first, Stiles had given Hot Karen the benefit of the doubt which turned out to be the wrong thing to do. No matter how Stiles greeted the guy or how nice he tried to be, Hot Karen would always find something to complain about. Some days, it was how bad it smelt in the shop. Other days, it was the fact that Stiles didn’t make his coffee right, which was wrong, by the way. Stiles, sadly, had memorized the stupid order of a black coffee with two sugars. Eventually, after all the complaining, Stiles decided to give the customer to complain about. 

Look, Stiles was a very good employee, okay? He showed up on time, for the most part. He made the coffee with a smile. And he even made small talk with the customers! Hell, he had customers who specifically requested him to make their drinks; a lot of people loved him and it showed in the tips he received. But for some godforsaken reason, Hot Karen did not. So, Stiles figured that he might as well be doing things on purpose to deserve the piss-poor attitude of the customer. Some days, he’d add too much sugar to the drink, or other days he would forget the sugar entirely. He would confuse orders up on a regular basis. His absolute favorite thing to do though was to move deliberately slow just to fuck with the guy’s schedule. Was it mean? Yeah, okay, a little bit. Did Stiles feel bad? Only some times, but the guy deserved it.

So, yeah. Stiles didn’t hate his job and he didn’t really hate the customers; he only hated one customer in general. He hated the way the guy had perfect bunny teeth. He hated the way he looked in dress clothing. He hated the stupid scruff and his stupid hot face. He hated the way the guy made Stiles want to shove him agai--

“Earth to Stiles.” A voice rang and Stiles recognized it as Erica’s. “Man, you really zoned out there for awhile.” She leaned against the counter and faced him. 

“Yeah, sorry.” He straightened his apron. It was still early and the morning rush hadn’t come in yet.

The best thing about Erica was, even though she had a tendency of a mean streak, she really did care about people. When he had first started, he was terrified of her. How could he not be? With her blonde curls and red lips and a look that could kill. He had avoided her for days before she overheard him talking about a Batman comic and after that, they hit it off. He had even had her name in his phone as “Cat Woman”. 

“What were you thinking about?” Issac asked, adding himself to the conversation. 

Stiles growled inwardly. Erica he could definitely handle, but Issac? It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy, because he did. To a point. Issac was the type of guy who wore scarves in sixty degree weather and complained about being hot. More often than not, Stiles tolerated him because his best friend, Scott, had a giant crush on him. And deep below all the prep attitude Issac gave, he really wasn’t too hard to get along with, he could see what Scott saw in the guy. 

“Give you one guess.” Erica purred. 

Issac, who usually ran the drive-in, tapped his finger to his lips dramatically. “Tall, dark, ridiculously handsome?” 

“Ding ding ding!” Erica leaned closer into Stiles’ personal space, “Hot Karen again, huh?” 

Stiles could feel his cheeks burning red and he pushed her away, “No.” 

“Nope, can’t lie to me. Remember?” She tapped her ears, referencing to her stupid werewolf hearing. 

That was something that Stiles had learned involuntarily and she never even realized he knew she was a werewolf until he told her. Growing up, he had always dreamed of being part of a super cool magical world with bizarre creatures. Well, Stiles got his wish in high school when Scott was bit by a rogue alpha and both of their lives ended up being in danger about every other week. He learned to pick up the signs of the supernatural pretty quickly and Erica wasn’t too hard to figure out. She was far more aggressive on full moons, she always reacted to things before Stiles could hear or smell them, and she constantly was scenting him; usually it was a light touch on the shoulder every now or then or the ruffle of his hair. Then there was the whole fiasco of her losing control of her shift in the backroom and he had walked in on her. She had been mortified while he had laughed and said that he knew. He had introduced her to Scott afterwards and she started coming to pack meetings. Shortly afterwards, she had invited Issac--apparently the guy was a were too but Stiles never paid him close enough attention to notice.

Shit. He really needed to get more human friends or learn how to lie better around the supernatural. “I’m not lying.” 

“Totally lying.” Issac commented and Stiles growled in annoyance. He hated being the only human that worked at the shop sometimes. 

“Fine. Maybe I was.” He admitted. 

“Knew it!” Erica high-fived Issac. “Someone has a crush.” 

“I do not!” 

She shook her head in disappointment, “Oh young, naive, little Stiles. You’ll realize it someday.” 

“I’m older than you!” He shouted at the same time a customer walked in and Erica stifled a laugh behind her hand. “I’m going to kill you.” He whispered under his breath before going and standing at his register. He put on a fake smile, “Hello! What can I make for you?” He asked in a chirpy voice, already noticing a line starting to form. He said a silent hello to the morning rush as he took the order.

It was an hour later and fifteen minutes to eight when Hot Karen walked in.  _ Just on schedule _ , Stiles thought to himself as he mentally prepared himself for whatever fit the guy was going to throw today. He was wearing a white shirt today with a few buttons loose at the top and Stiles definitely did not stare. As usual, Hot Karen was on his phone by the time he got to the counter. 

“Good morning!” Stiles said in the most annoying sweet voice he could muster, “What can I make for you today,  _ sir _ .”

Hot Karen didn’t look up as he ordered and Stiles wanted to reach across the counter and slap the phone out of his hands. But he didn’t, because he had self control. Instead, he took the order and gave back the change after saying the price and made the drinks slower than he normally would.

“I’m missing one.” Hot Karen said as he pointed to the drink carrier Stiles put in front of him.

“No, I don’t think so. You ordered three drinks.” 

Hot Karen shook his head, “No. I ordered four.” 

Stiles’ cheerful smile fell a few centimeters. God, this asshole pissed him off. “No.” He said more forcefully, his customer service voice dropping a few tones. “You ordered three.” He pulled the receipt from the customer’s hands “Let’s count together, shall we? One black coffee.” He pointed to the list. “One caramel swirl frappe. And one latte with soy milk.” 

The guy looked red in the face and Stiles waited for the inevitable tantrum. Instead of yelling like he normally did, Hot Karen took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Fine.” He said through gritted teeth, like it pained him. “Can I have another black coffee.”

Stiles stared at him blankly. 

“Please.” 

“Of course!” The fake smile and customer service voice were back in full swing and Stiles turned around to pour the coffee. Maybe the guy wouldn’t notice if he spit in it. “It’ll be $2.15.” He called over his shoulder. 

Hot Karen huffed, “Are you serious? You’re the one who forgot to add it to the order.” 

Stiles turned around to face him as he put the lid on the cup, “You’re the one who didn’t order it.” 

“Yes, I did!” 

“No, you didn’t. Do we need to go through the receipt again? Jog that memory of yours?”

“My memory is fine. Your work skills, however, need improvement.” 

Stiles clenched the cup tightly and he felt the sides flex under the pressure. “Your attitude needs improvement.” 

The guy leveled him with a hard look, “Excuse me?” 

“Do you want your coffee or not?” 

“Yes!”

“Great.” Stiles sat the coffee down before he crushed it, “It’ll be $2.15.”

Hot Karen stared at him for a long moment. Man, he had the best green eyes Stiles had ever seen. “Fine.” He finally spat out and handed Stiles the money which he happily took and handed back the change. 

“Thank you! Have a fantastic day!” He added the coffee to the drink carrier. 

Hot Karen didn’t say another word as he aggressively took the drink carrier and left the building. Erica leaned over from her section of the counter, “I could’ve sworn he ordered a black coffee when he ordered his other drinks.”

Stiles gave her a smirk, “He did.”

Scott always showed up right before Jumpin’ Java closed at 2 p.m. and he always hung around as the crew cleaned up and prepared for the next shift tomorrow. Scott always said it was because he wanted to hang out with his best friend, but Stiles knew the truth. Scott only showed up so he could flirt with Issac, Stiles was just an added bonus. The JavaCrew never minded though considering they all knew Scott and they liked having him around. Erica never said it, but everyone knew she considered Scott to be her alpha. Issac also never complained because it also gave him an excuse to flirt back. The two were disgustingly cute and Stiles hated it, but he was also happy for Scott. 

Today, after Erica had locked the doors for the day, Issac let Scott come behind the counter and the two were talking while Isaac cleaned the coffee machines. Erica was balancing the registers and Stiles was busy mopping the floors. If he was being honest, sometimes he was a little jealous of Scott’s open schedule. The alpha werewolf was taking a few college classes at a time in order to get a veterinary degree. He elected to do the classes online so he could stay in Beacon Hills for a few more years for his pack and for his mom. 

Stiles, on the other hand, had already tried the college thing but his experiences were cut short when his dad had a heart attack. Despite the fact that it was minor and his dad insisted him not to, Stiles put a pause to his college years and moved back home. He got a job to help around the house and monitored what his dad ate. Was he being a little ridiculous? Probably. Did he care? Not really. He just wasn’t ready to lose his dad yet. 

“Isaac told me about Hot Karen today.” Scott mentioned after Stiles had finished cleaning the floors and was getting ready to leave for the day. 

“Oh, yeah?” He removed his apron and put on his classic red jacket. 

“Said you almost threw a cup at him.” 

“I did not almost throw a cup. Isaac!” Stiles shouted, knowing the curly haired man was still in the building and probably listening in. 

As if on cue, Isaac poked his head into the break room, “In my defense, it looked like you wanted to throw the cup.”

Stiles stared at him, “I  _ squeezed _ the cup.” 

“Uh huh.” Isaac winked at Scott, who blushed furiously. 

“Do you want me to demonstrate how I throw a cup?” Stiles asked pointedly. 

Isaac's eyes grew wide and his head disappeared. Scott nudged Stiles’ arm, “Come on, dude. He’s just joking with you.” 

“You’re only saying that because you two are together.” 

Scott blushed again, “We aren’t dating.” 

Stiles grabbed his jeep keys and held the back door open for Scott, “Which, again, I don’t know why. Both of you guys want to.” 

Both of them walked outside and to the small parking lot for employees, “You think he wants to?” 

Stiles groaned, “If he was anymore obvious, he would have a frickin’ sign, dude. Ask him out.” 

“Maybe I’ll ask him to Malia’s birthday party.”

Stiles stopped at his jeep, “Malia’s having a birthday party?”

“Yeah,” Scott stopped too, his motorcycle parked beside the jeep. “Next week.”

“I wasn’t invited?” 

“She’ll invite you, man. It’s a themed party too!” 

He unlocked the door, “Yeah? What’s the theme?” 

“Masquerade!” 

Stiles couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him; only Malia Hale could throw that dramatic of a party. Well, only her and Lydia Martin. Malia joined their little pack in high school and Lydia had quickly taken the girl under her wing. They were a pair to be feared. If Malia was throwing a party, it probably meant that she was having it at her house in the Beacon Hills Preserve. He had been a few times when they were dating--their relationship wasn’t too serious--and it freaked Stiles out. Her dad and aunt lived together and raised their kids together, which wasn’t the part that freaked him out--they were werewolves, most born wolf packs did that. What freaked him was how creepy the house was just stuck randomly in the woods; it was a fear developed from all the horror movies he used to watch with Scott. He shuttered just thinking about it.

“She just invited me today, she’ll probably ask you tomorrow.” Scott smiled as he mounted his bike. 

“Probably. See you tomorrow?”

Scott nodded, put on his helmet, and drove off. Stiles pulled open the baby blue door and climbed into the driver’s seat. He started the jeep and took a deep breath before leaving the parking lot, already mentally preparing himself for whatever problem Hot Karen would have tomorrow. 


	2. Chapter 2

Either Derek was going to be killed or he was going to kill someone. And honestly, he already had a target on his mind. The target in name was the barista who managed to make him late for work three times this week with wrong orders or forgetting drinks. How the hell did that guy even get a job there? Derek hated going to Jumpin’ Java with a passion because of shitty barista. He also hated going because it was his boss’ favorite place to go and anything his boss liked, he hated. Was he petty? Yes. Did he care? No, because his boss was an asshole. He was even more of an asshole when Derek was late. 

Which brought Derek back to his original statement: he was going to kill the cute barista. He shook his head roughly, as if trying to clear his head like an etch-a-sketch. No. He did not find the barista cute. Not his spiky hair. Not his scattered moles. Not the amber eyes that seemed to shine brighter every time he annoyed Derek. He tried erasing those thoughts again as he balanced the drink holder and opened the door to his building, but the thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone. He got in the elevator and pushed his floor and his mind was drawn back to remembering the small little hip wiggles the barista did while pouring the coffee. Maybe Derek could hate him while, at the same time, appreciate him. That could work, right? 

The elevator dinged and he took in a deep calming breath before he stepped out. It had been a year since he was an intern, yet some days, it felt like he was back in the position. He was still called on to do meaningless tasks like unjam the printer or bring everyone coffee. Slowly, he made his way through the office, placing the soy latte and black coffee on two desks before he stopped at his own. He placed the caramel swirl on his desk and he looked left towards the mahogany desk surrounded by four glass walls. He took another deep breath and headed over, gripping the drink carrier with the now lonely coffee cup. He knocked on his boss’ door and entered upon command. 

“Ah, Derek.” His boss said with a flat tone, “You’re late.” 

Derek did nothing to hide his annoyance, “You’re the one who wanted coffee.” He sat the coffee on the desk. 

His boss reached for it and studied the lid, “Did you mess up the order again?” 

Derek bit back a growl, “ _ I _ didn’t mess up anything. The barista forgot part of the drink order.” 

“Uh huh.” His boss didn’t sound convinced and he took a sip. “Well, at least it’s right this time.” This time, Derek couldn’t help but let out an annoyed sigh. His boss heard it and looked up, “Something bothering you?” 

“No.”  _ You _ is what Derek wanted to say, but he held it back. He didn’t need another screaming match today. 

“Now, is that anyway to talk to family?” His uncle asked, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin in the middle.

Derek rolled his eyes. Once upon a time, he loved his uncle. Anything that Peter was, Derek wanted to be. But then, he got older and he started realizing that maybe his uncle wasn’t as amazing as he originally thought. Exhibit A: Peter worked at a law firm and was great at it; people who were great in law usually sucked in real life. They were cocky and manipulative, the two things that Uncle Peter took pride in. What made matters even worse was the fact that it was Peter who hired Derek two years ago when he was struggling to find a job. 

It was supposed to be just a temporary position, hence the reason for his title of intern, but ever since he was promoted last year, Derek felt more stuck there than ever. After college, Derek came back to Beacon Hills with every intention for teaching history, but life got in the way and a position that was promised to him at Beacon Hills High School had already been filled by the time he returned. His mom told him to wait a year and maybe there would be another position, so he did. He waited two years before Peter hired him. At first, it was to be an intern just to see if Derek would fit well in the world of law. Last year, however, Peter promoted him to assistant and Derek started hating his job even more. He was meant for teaching kids, not bringing his asshole of an uncle--and the rest of the office--coffee everyday. 

Working for Peter did have a brightside and it was that he got to stay in Beacon Hills longer which meant that he was still surrounded by his family. Before he was offered the job, he was looking at teacher openings around the state or even back in New York where his sister Laura was. The only problem with going back to New York was that he would be away from his family, and even though he would have Laura, it wouldn’t be the same; he would miss his little sister and his cousin growing up. 

“Nothing is bothering me.” Derek said stiffy, hoping Peter would get the point. 

He didn’t and kept pushing. “Is it the barista? You know, Cora went one time and saw him. She said he’s pretty cute.” His lips quirked upwards, “She also said he’s probably one of the nicest people she’s ever met. So why, my dear nephew, are you having problems with him?”

Of course Cora would tell Peter something like that just to spite him. Derek folded his arms, taking the silent treatment would make this whole “talk” move a lot faster

“She also said that he’s your type. Tall, lanky, I think she even mentioned something about freckles?”

_ They’re moles _ , Derek corrected in his head but refused to say anything out loud. 

“Maybe he’s picking on you because he has a crush on you.” Derek let out a low warning growl at that statement and Peter’s teasing attitude vanished. “I don’t appreciate that tone.” 

Derek dropped his defensive stance.“He doesn’t have a crush on me, and, before you say anything else, I don’t have a crush on him. Now, if you excuse me, I have work to do.” He turned around and headed out the door, ignoring Peter’s smug chuckle. He looked over his shoulder, “And for your information, he’s not my type.” He closed the door behind him. It was a lie. Derek knew Peter heard it, and he was thankful that sometimes his uncle knew when to stop pushing. The barista was exactly Derek’s type, even down to the snarky ass attitude. 

He plopped down at his desk, grabbed his cup, took a large drink of his coffee through the straw. The sugar invaded his mouth and he found it comforting. Most people assumed that he liked black coffee because of his gruff exterior, but honestly, he hated the taste of coffee. He much preferred the sweeter, sugary flavors that covered up the bitter taste. He placed the cup down and wiped the leftover condensation from his hands onto his pants. He stared at the black screen of his computer and mentally began preparing himself as he booted it up. 

He barely logged on to his email account whenever his cellphone rang. He looked down to see the familiar picture of his cousin lighting up the screen and he slid to answer it. “Hey, Malia.” He greeted. 

“Derek!” Her voice exploded in his ear and he held it further away; Malia always had a tendency to be on the louder no matter what she was doing. 

“That’s me.” He hummed. 

“What are you doing next Friday?” 

He mentally checked his schedule, “Isn’t that your birthday?” 

“Yes!” And this time he winced at the sound spike. 

“I don’t think I have any plans?” 

“Wrong.” There was the sound of static and her voice cut out for a moment, “--shit. Sorry, dropped my phone. Where was I? Oh! Right, next friday. You have plans now.” 

Derek leaned the phone against one ear as he started deleting his junkmail, “I do?”

“Yep. I’m having a birthday party.”

“And you want me there?” He wasn’t that great at parties. “Why?” 

“Well, first, because you’re my family. Second, because it’s happening at the house and I figured that you should be out socializing instead of being a boring stick of the mud and hiding in your room.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her bluntness; leave it to Malia to say what needs saying. “And if I say no?” 

“I lock you out of your room with mountain ash until the party's over.”

He sighed and shook his head, “I’ll show up for an hour, how does that sound?”

There was silence on the other end while she considered this, “Fine. You also need a mask?” 

“Why do I need a mask?” He wasn’t that bad looking, he thought he was actually pretty handsome. 

“It’s a masquerade, idiot. Lydia made me watch a…”

Malia kept going but Derek tuned her out. Anything that involved her friend Lydia meant things were going to be over the top and extra. He added in a few hums here and there to let Malia think he was listening but in all reality, he was now stressing about the stupid party. He hated social parties with a passion; he was always awkward and didn’t know what to say or do. Every party in high or college always ended up with him leaning against the wall alone or with him bailing early. He wasn’t exactly the approachable type. 

“Malia, that sounds great, but I’m at work right now.” He cut her off, knowing how long she could rant for. 

“Oh! That’s okay, tell my dad I say hi and not to be such an asshole.” He was glad she was aware of how rude Peter could be. 

“Uh huh.” 

“And remember: get a mask!” 

“I will.” He said his goodbye. He put the phone down and rubbed his face. How was he supposed to get a mask in a week? Maybe he could make one? Or even better, make Malia make him one sense she wanted everyone to wear one. He opened a new tab on his computer and started searching for whatever mask he could find. 

He searched for most of the work day, stopping only to occasionally answer the phones or balance Peter’s work schedule for the week. He searched when he got home, again, only stopping when it was time for supper so he could spend it with his family. Sure, he found a lot of masks he liked, but there wasn’t a mask that felt  _ right _ . Most were too childish or others were too glamorous. He had asked Malia to see what hers looked like so he could have something to base his off of, but she refused. She had told him that she couldn’t help him and it was something he had to do on his own which was ridiculous because it was just a stupid mask. He looked at colored masks, themed masks, and even halloween masks but he couldn’t find what he was looking for. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was looking for. 

The search continued well into the night and he finally put his phone away in favor of some sleep. He ignored his phone for most of his morning routine the next day. He finally started looking again when he walked into Jumpin’ Java to get the office their usual coffees. There was a line this time around and Derek figured he had nothing better to do. He wrinkled his nose in annoyance as he heard the familiar voice of the barista taking an order. Without even meaning to, he listened in and found himself agreeing with Cora. The guy seemed to be a lot nicer to everyone but Derek which made the barista even more annoying. 

He kept searching through different masks offered on some website until it was his turn to order. He looked up from his phone to see the barista looking at him expectantly. “Oh. Can I have two orders of black coffee; one with sugar. A caramel swirl frappe and a soy latte.” He handed over his card without even listening to the total. 

“Right away, your highness.” The barista mumbled, taking the card and running it. 

Derek lifted his eyebrow. Seriously? “Does that make you my servant?” 

The barista looked shocked that Derek answered but he quickly recovered, “Only if it means I get to overthrow you later.” He handed the card back.

Derek wanted to overthrow him through a window. The barista turned around and started making the drinks.  _ Don’tlookathisbuttdon’tlookathisbuttdon’tlooka--fuck.  _ Derek glanced down at his ass while he made the coffee; definitely his type. He quickly looked back down at his phone and scrowled aimlessly across a few more masks. A random thought flitted across his mind and he entered a certain type of mask in the search bar. He clicked enter and he felt relief hit him at the first mask that popped up; it was exactly what he wanted. He quickly added it to his cart and ordered it before looking up to see three out of four coffees waiting for him. What was taking the guy so long? He searched for the barista and saw him making the caramel swirl frappe as slow as possible. 

“You have a line.” Derek stated loud enough for the barista to hear. 

The said barista looked up and leveled him with a glare, “And you have no patience. Still wanna point out the obvious?”

“It doesn’t take you this long to make one coffee.” 

The barista slammed the now made drink in the carrier, “It does when our machine for your precious coffee is on the fritz. Now you can keep complaining or you can be an understanding customer about it, but either way,” he lowered his voice and leaned over the counter, “I don’t give a shit.” Then the barista leaned back with a shiteating grin, “Thank you, have a brew-tiful day!”

Derek just stared at him, his face red out of anger. 

The barista tilted his head and batted his stupid amber eyes, “I’m going to have to ask you to move, as you stated earlier: there’s a line behind you.” Then the fucker winked. 

Derek clenched the tray in his hands and slid it off the counter with more force than necessary, almost spilling all the drinks. He glared at the line of customers behind him and exited the building. That was it, he decided. Uncle Peter was just going to have to deal with getting coffee from another coffee shop, Derek was never going to enter Jumpin’ Java again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uggghhh, don't know how I feel about this chapter. I kinda don't like it.


	3. Chapter 3

Truth be told, the coffee machine was actually broken; it wasn’t an excuse for Stiles to be a dick. Although, it did work perfectly against his daily spat with Hot Karen. So what if he lost his temper a little bit? It was true. Stiles didn’t give a shit about the guy and, at this point, he didn’t care. He ignored the look that he got from both Erica and Isaac and he continued to work. Okay, so maybe he felt a little guilty for his actions and he tried making his conscience feel better by being extra nice to the customers afterwards. 

Other than the rude encounter, and the stupid coffee machine trying to break down, the work day went by fairly quickly with no other complaints. Stiles was on such a roll that he didn’t even recognize who was walking up to the counter until they spoke to him. 

“Hey, Stiles.” Malia greeted as she leaned against the counter like she owned the place. 

He didn’t stop her either. It was close to closing time and there were no other customers. Plus, Malia sort of always did what she wanted and no one dared to stop her. The werecoyote was terrifying when she needed to be. “Hey!” He offered a relaxed smile and dropped his customer service voice. 

“How’s my favorite human?” She grinned. 

“Oh, y’know.” He shrugged, “Glad to be getting off soon.” 

Her grin seemed to get wider, “Perfect! Scott said this was around the time you got off. I can wait.” 

He blinked in confusion, “You asked Scott when I got off?” 

“He’s got your schedule memorized. Well, part of it. Probably because he likes the one curly haired guy.” Malia seemed not to understand social cues and when honestly wasn’t the best policy. If she had a thought, she said it without even thinking about the repercussions. The certain repercussions this time were a soft squeak from said curly haired guy and the slamming of the employee break room door. “What was that?” 

Stiles shook his head fondly at her obliviousness, “ _ That _ was Issac who is probably now freaking out that Scott likes him back. Which is ridiculous because they’re both so obvious about it. Scott is thinking about asking him to your party that I haven’t received an invitation to yet.” 

“That’s actually one of the reasons I’m here. You’re officially invited to my party.” Her eyes glinted with an undertone of mischievousness and he offhandedly wondered what else she was planning. As quick as the glint appeared, it was gone again, covered over with excitement. “And you, me, and Lydia are going to go get new outfits.” 

Stiles looked skeptical, “Dude. You hate shopping. You once said it was worse than algebra.” 

She sighed and ran a hand through her short hair, “Yeah, I do. But Lydia got so excited and I couldn’t say no.” 

That made sense. If you got on Lydia Martin’s bad side, she was ten times more frightening than Malia. He offered a smile, “It’s just an excuse for her to get a new dress.” 

Malia laughed, “Oh god. If she tries to get me to wear a dress…” She shook her head. “But you’ll come shopping with us?” 

“I’m pretty sure if I said no you, or Lydia, would blackmail me into coming.” 

She grinned again, “Perfect! We’ll pick you up when you get off!” She slapped the counter in a finalizing gesture and she was off, leaving the building without another word. 

  
  


Shopping was definitely not what Stiles had planned to do after work, but nevertheless, he didn’t mind following Lydia and Malia around the mall. His assumption earlier was right; the shopping trip was just a guise for Lydia to buy a new dress. So far, they had visited three separate stores in the mall and Lydia had tried on at least four dresses at every one. There was also an argument at every store with Lydia trying to get Malia to try on a dress. 

“Just one.” Lydia begged while looking through the racks at Macy’s. “And I’ll stop asking.”

“No.” Was Malia’s short and stiff reply. 

“What are you going to wear then?” 

Stiles bit back a comment, he learned long ago that it was best not get in between the girls’ arguments.

“I don’t know yet, maybe my black shorts?” 

“Malia, you can’t wear shorts to a masquerade.” 

“It’s my party, I can do what I want.” 

“Fine, it’s just not proper.” Lydia said with a huff. 

Stiles loved Lydia, really, he did. For most of his life, he was pretty sure he was going to marry her. Hell, he even had a ten year plan and everything. Then middle school happened and he realized that maybe he wasn’t as straight as everyone else when Scott dragged him to a basketball game. His crush on Lydia slowly fizzled away as he entered high school fully out as bisexual. She was still a fantastic human being and he always wanted her in his life, but now there was a deeper sense of familial love; especially since she joined the back after they discovered her banshee powers. He loved her but sometimes she was a little overwhelming with certain topics. One of the topics being shopping. If you went shopping with Lydia Martin, you were at least expected to try on one item of her choosing. 

He honestly didn’t know how her and Malia got along so well some days. They were nearly total opposites. Lydia liked flashy clothing and short skirts and dresses while Malia liked practical shirts and either pants or shorts. God, and the  _ bickering _ . If Lydia wasn’t dating one of his dad’s deputies, Stiles would assume that the two girls had been together for years. 

“Oh my god. This is like the twentieth dress you’ve looked at.” Malia complained. 

Stiles couldn’t help but agree, “Yeah, Lydia. This is getting a little ridiculous.” 

She gave him a look as she picked out a red, sparkled dress, “Fine. I’ll just go with this one.” 

“But you didn’t even try it on?” Malia frowned. 

“Oh, I know. I came and looked at this one yesterday.” Lydia gave a smile. 

Stiles looked at her, annoyed, “You came yest--Oh my god! Lydia, we’ve been here for over an hour! And you already knew which one you wanted!?” 

“I wanted to look at options.” She said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. 

“Options.” Stiles repeated while rolling his eyes. God, he could be at home right now cooking dinner. Or watching a movie. Or porn! Not dress shopping. 

Malia seemed a little pissed off too, but she just shook her head and laughed it off. “You would.”

Lydia hung the dress over her arm, “So I’ve got my dress. I guess Malia isn’t getting one,” she glared at her friend, “So that leaves Stiles.” 

“I’m not wearing a dress again.” He said quickly.

“Aren’t you funny,” she grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the men section. “And it was one time; it wasn’t even that bad.”

Malia followed after them, glad to focus on anything else other than dresses. “Wait, Stiles wore a dress?”

Lydia snickered while Stiles glared at Malia, “We don’t talk about it.” Which only caused Lydia to laugh harder and Malia giggled herself. 

The banshee continued to pull him the dress shirt section and she began rifling through the racks. “Lydia. I don’t need a new shirt.” 

She looked at him, her perfect strawberry blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “What are you planning on wearing, Stiles?” 

“Uh…” 

Lydia stared at him with persistent green eyes, “This is why you have me. I already got you a mask.” Wait, what? Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but Lydia beat him to it. “No arguing. I know you. You were probably going to wait to the last minute and then wear a stupid Spiderman mask or something.” 

“No, I wasn’t.” 

“Lie.” Malia hummed and he turned around and gave her a warning look.

Lydia sighed, “Malia and I were looking at masks and we found the perfect one for you, so shut up and let us help you.” 

There seemed to be an undertone of something else in Lydia’s voice and Stiles wasn’t for sure what it was. He was reminded of the mischievous look from Malia earlier and he wondered if the two were plotting something. It wasn’t something he would put past the two, but he also had no clue what the hell they could be planning for a birthday party. 

“Okay, but I don’t need a new shirt.”

She shook her head and, with an eye roll, muttered, “Men.” 

He didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t understand the need for women to have a new outfit for every party. Did it have to be more than that? Apparently so because Lydia brought up a peach colored shirt towards his chest and winced before putting it back and searched for another color. 

“What about just white?” Malia offered. 

Lydia shook her head again, “No.” She offered no reasoning behind it. 

Malia groaned and Stiles gave her a look of understanding. Lydia held up another shirt, this time a light green. “Lyds, seriously? I have plenty of shirts.” 

“Green isn’t your color either.” She hummed, ignoring him. 

Stiles hung his head, giving in, maybe it would help her come to the decision faster. Lydia proceeded to hold up a multitude of different colored shirts against his body, some with designs and some without. Each time, she would eventually shake her head and put the shirt away. The only one that she left out and around her arm was a light blue button up. Malia had disappeared from the two and where she went, Stiles had no clue. He’s a little pissed that she ditched out on him though. Lydia huffed and put a white shirt with orange swirls back. 

“I think this is the best we can do.” She held up the blue shirt. 

“Wait!” Malia’s voice echoed around the store as she randomly appeared again. “What about this?” 

Lydia’s eyes widened and a grin broke across her features, “Perfect.” 

Stiles could only offer a small smile in return and wonder what his mask looked like for it to match the shirt in Malia’s hands.

  
  


For some odd reason, Hot Karen didn’t show up for the rest of the week. Stiles didn’t worry about it too much at first, in fact, he kind of enjoyed it. It allowed his days to be a whole lot stress free and it put him in a far greater mood. He didn’t even get annoyed when Scott asked out Isaac in front of him--and Erica--while they were closing last Monday. But when it had been a week since the guy came in, he felt a cold dread sink into his stomach; Stiles hated to admit it, but he was a little worried. Did he push the guy too far the other day when he came in? So when the Adonis of a man stepped into the doors on Friday, Stiles felt a little relieved. 

That was, of course, until the man came up and stared and Stiles expectantly. He felt the familiar anger and annoyance course through his veins, but he tried not to let it control him today. It was going to be a good day, he told himself. It had to be. It was Malia’s birthday party tonight and he had to be in a good mood. She had been so excited a few days ago when she showed up at his house with a package in her hands. His mask had come that morning and she had been excited all day to give it to him. His dad had let her in and invited her to stay for dinner but she had declined and raced to Stiles’ room to give it to him in person. He took a deep breath to calm himself as Hot Karen kept staring. 

“Good morning! How can I help you today?” He said, trying to fight his inner annoyance with a bright attitude

Hot Karen made a face and, damn. Guess he sounded way too cheerful. Hot Karen quickly recovered and went back to his default resting bitch face. “The usual.” 

What? Was Stiles supposed to memorize this asshole’s order? Well, he did, but not on purpose and he most definitely wasn’t going to let him know this. “Which is?” 

“I’ve been coming here for months, you should know my order.” Was the gruff response. 

Stiles clenched his hands under the counter, still trying to remain cool “I’m sorry,  _ sir _ . I get a lot of orders everyday, I can’t memorize all of them.” 

“You literally just had the girl’s order, who was in front of me, ready before she even spoke.”

Stiles shrugged. That’s because he liked the girl well enough to memorize her order, plus, she brought in her dog one time and, in Stiles’ book, that meant he could at least remember her order. “And your point?” 

Hot Karen’s eyebrows scrunched together like two caterpillars fighting. “My point is that you are deliberately fucking me over.” 

Stiles couldn’t help but bark out a laugh and he looked around to see no other patrons in the shop before responding. “I’m sorry, if I was  _ fucking _ you over, you would definitely know.”

“Oh I know because I’m pretty sure I watched you put salt in my coffee one time instead of sugar.” 

Stiles winced. Fuck. Did he actually see that? It wasn’t the sneakiest moment of Stiles' life, but it was still worth it. “No use crying over spilt coffee.” 

“Milk.” 

“Oh, you want milk?” 

“No!” Hot Karen’s face was turning red, “The saying is ‘No use crying over spilt milk’. I was correcting you.” 

Stiles felt his blood begin to boil and he tried taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “If you aren’t going to order anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I want to order coffee.” Did the guy just fucking  _ growl _ ? 

“Great! If you tell me what you want to order then I ca--” 

“If you don’t fucking make my order right now, I’m going to ask to speak to your manager and make sure you’re fired. Do you understand, you little shit?” 

Stiles' mouth slowly closed and he could feel Isaac and Erica watching from the breakroom. Slowly, and making sure Hot Karen knew he was pissed, he turned around and made the four drinks. Of course the guy would threaten to get Stiles fired. It wouldn’t matter so much if he hated his job, but he liked it and he loved his coworkers. He finished the drinks and told Hot Karen his order with the fakest customer service voice he could muster. 

Hot Karen looked smug. Too smug for winning today’s argument and he slid the money over the counter, “Keep the change.” He glared at Stiles before grabbing the cups and pushing his way out the door. 

To say the encounter didn’t ruin Stiles’ day would be a lie. He was angry, annoyed, and humiliated all at the same time and to top it all off, now he was going to go to Malia’s party in a bad mood. His friends tried cheering him up throughout the rest of the work day which only made him feel worse. Isaac must’ve called Scott because the alpha showed up and asked Stiles if he wanted to talk and the answer was no. Truth be told, the only thing that Stiles wanted to do was go home and watch reality television until his brain stopped functioning, but that wasn’t a possibility. So, when he got home, he went upstairs and let a scream into his pillow--he was thankful his dad was working late tonight. 

After it felt like his throat was bleeding, he got around for the party. He showered, gelled his hair, and put on his pants. He stared at the shirt and mask that he laid out on the bed and took another deep breath. It wasn’t a bad day, he tried convincing himself. It was just a bad moment. Bad moments should not define a day. He picked up the silky material of the shirt and began buttoning it. Maybe a party was what he needed anyway; just something to get his mind off of things. Although, he wouldn’t have Scott around because Scott would be hanging with Isaac. Lydia invited Parrish so he would feel awkward hanging with them. Malia would be too busy playing hostess. Erica would probably ditch out early to go make out with her boyfriend. Stiles groaned again as he finished buttoning his shirt. Maybe he could only go for a few hours and fake being sick. He grabbed his mask and dragged his feet down the stairs and to the front door. He grabbed his keys and climbed into the jeep. He glanced at the mask in the passenger seat and started making his way to the party. 

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked to write another Sterek... so here I am! I hope you enjoy! I'm awful at responding to comments, just know that I read every single one and they make my day! Updates should be every Monday. Thank you for reading!


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